


Gingerbread

by MotherLilith



Series: Being Human Christmas Specials [2]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Bickering, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hal Yorke Has Issues, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27915568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherLilith/pseuds/MotherLilith
Summary: Hal tries out baking as part of his new routine as he reflects on the events of the past year. Cutler comes home from work and domestic fluff ensues.
Relationships: Nick Cutler/Hal Yorke
Series: Being Human Christmas Specials [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040234
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Gingerbread

Hal looked out of the kitchen window. It was only four o’clock, and already it was growing dark. But he preferred the wintertime, there was no social obligation to be out of doors and it made it much easier to control the bloodlust when the people hurrying past were bundled up in layers. Not that he was leaving the house unsupervised these days.

He looked down at the recipe. It was from an old cookery book he’d found in the pantry. Home Economics: A Guide to Hosting the Perfect Christmas.

  1. **Prepare the oven and baking trays.**



Hal preheated the antiquated oven to something approximating 176 degrees celsius. It was hard to be exact, because the numbers that should have marked the dial had worn off. He just hoped that the biscuits wouldn’t burn. Then he’d have to start all over again.

He was ambivalent about food, in fact most vampires were. But it was necessary to eat if one wasn’t drinking blood. You had to get energy from somewhere, after all. Desserts and sweets didn’t really fit into that. There wasn’t much point consuming them because they had little nutritional value and elevated one’s blood sugar before sending it crashing. Not ideal for someone trying to maintain a level mood.

But baking posed a challenge. One had to measure everything out exactly, in order to produce the correct result. It was like a puzzle. The aim was to bring together disparate elements and combine them into a new and complete whole. Besides, if he wasn’t going to eat the gingerbread then the others surely would.

  1. **Mix the dough.**



He mixed the ginger, cinnamon, cloves and allspice into the flour and then combined it with light brown sugar and baking powder. Then in another bowl, he whisked two eggs together with butter and molasses until they were pleasantly fluffy.

The reason for this activity was that he was trying to find new things to do, new routines to fit his current living situation. At first, he’d made the mistake of trying to introduce the routines set by Leo into his life at Honolulu Heights. It had worked about as well as trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Annie had her own rota for Eve and had expected him and Tom to look after the baby as well as working in the café. Admittedly, he’d struggled in both roles.

  1. **Roll out the dough.**



No, he hadn’t been much good as a caregiver or as a café worker. He had enough trouble taking care of himself, without having to think about taking care of other people. And if he was being honest, babies still made him extremely uncomfortable.

Hal stared at the immaculately clean countertop for a minute, before hesitantly raising the flour filled sieve. The powder fell softly, coating the surface like newly fallen snow. He just hoped he’d be able to clean it all up afterwards. Flour was messy and had a bad habit of getting where you least expected it to. He rolled out one portion of dough with a wooden rolling pin, tentatively adding a little more flour to the surface.

  1. **Cut out the pieces.**



He opened the cutlery drawer and looked down at the knives, before selecting one of the blunter ones. He didn’t like to handle the sharp ones because they made him start imagining things.

He’d had a lot of time alone in the house to reflect on what had happened in the last year. It wasn’t Leo and Pearl’s passing that had led to his relapse, though it certainly hadn’t helped. Nor even all the stressful situations he’d found himself in, or the hard decisions he’d had to make. No, it had started when he’d let himself believe that he was safe. He’d managed to convince the others of it too. Tom and Alex had thought they’d seen what he was like on the blood, but they hadn’t truly understood what he was capable of until everything started unravelling and kept unravelling until there was almost nothing left. It wasn't their fault. They hadn't known how much easier it was for him to lie than it was to ask for help. He'd never fooled Leo though. Leo had never forgotten the dark man waiting in the wings, the one who’d made him kill for entertainment month after month.

Carefully, he cut around the outside of the pattern without once straying from the outline.

But now that the chaos had passed, he was starting again. Trying to find new ways of doing things that would keep him busy, and thus keep him safe. For now, working a job was out of the question. It was for the best, really. They’d all seen first-hand what happened when he fell off the wagon.

Now, the biscuits were ready to bake.

After placing the tray carefully in the exact centre of the oven, he pulled on his marigolds and set about cleaning the kitchen. In some ways, this was the best bit. He was humming what sounded suspiciously like ‘Good King Wenceslaus’ when he heard the backdoor open.

“What are you doing?”, asked a familiar voice.

Hal turned to see Cutler in the doorway.

“Don’t you ever use the front door?”

“No, because every time I do it makes me feel like I’m about to burst into flames. This way is less traumatic.”

“Well, knock next time.”

Cutler removed a leather glove and wrapped his knuckles twice on the wood of the door.

“Knock-knock. Happy now?”

Hal watched as he took off his hat and scarf. His cheeks were pale, with not a flush of blood from the cold outside. He looked exhausted as he hung up his thick winter coat.

“Long day?”

“I’m a solicitor. Every day is a long day.”

Hal’s face creased into an expression of concern, “You know what I mean.”

“First, you’re doing what appears to be baking, and now you’re worrying about me? Who am I talking to and what have you done with Hal?”

“Nick, I’m serious. You know much harder it makes things for us, without the blood.”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to remind me.”

He felt Nick’s lips brush his. They were still cold from outside and the feeling contrasted pleasingly with the warmth of the kitchen.

“Just…sit down. I’ll make us some tea”

“Splash of milk, no sugar.”

Hal raised his eyebrows, “I know.”

As he waited for the kettle to boil, Cutler went and sat down at the table.

They’d agreed that it wasn’t good for either of them to spend too much time apart in case they fell off the wagon, but Hal needed his own space and didn’t want Nick becoming dependent on him again. That was unhealthy for both of them and led to a slope slippery with blood. The solution was that half the week Nick stayed with him at the house and commuted, the other half he spent at his flat in Cardiff.

Hal finished making the tea and joined him in the living room.

“So, what have you been doing all day then?” asked Nick.

“Just my usual routine; exercising, reading, meditating, listening to ‘You and Yours’, vacuuming the carpet to stop the incessant spread of pine needles throughout the house.” He shot the Christmas tree and accusatory look. Tomorrow he wouldn’t make the mistake of doing it barefoot. “Overall, it was a full and rewarding day.”

Nick sighed. “That sounds nice. I could do with a day off.”

Hal bristled.

“This isn’t me taking time off, Nick. This is me trying not to kill everyone in South Wales.”

Nick waved him off dismissively. “I know, I know. We’ve talked about this.”

“Perhaps you’re working too much.”

“Yeah, well one of us has to.”

There was a pause.

“Look, I’m sorry” said Nick apologetically, “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you can’t work right now, and that’s ok. I understand. But I can, so that’s what I’m doing”.

He did look tired, Hal thought. There were dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t been sleeping? He felt bad, for snapping at him like that. He knew that Nick wasn’t trying to rile him up, but old habits died hard.

Nick sighed, sinking back in his chair. “Maybe I am working too much, but that’s only because work is what keeps _me_ safe. I enjoy it, and I’m not about to stop now just because I’ve gone clean.”

Hal shook his head, “You shouldn’t. I’m just saying, make sure to take care of yourself. I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard, because that’s when things go wrong. Believe me, I know.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Nick’s face stretched into a grin. “Besides, I’ve got you keeping an eye on me now, haven’t I?”

Hal couldn’t help but return it. “You can be sure of that.”

Things had been getting easier between them in the last few months. It would still be long time yet before Nick forgave him for everything he’d done, but they had made a start and that was something.

Something good actually, Hal thought. Though it was still new, and they were both cautious, not wanting to fall into old patterns of behaviour.

Nick took a sip of his milky tea and changed the subject.

“I don’t like December. People who haven’t been to church all year start getting religious all of a sudden. It’s almost as bad as bloody Easter.”

Hal smirked. “At least they don’t have hot cross buns at Christmas.”

“Don’t laugh! You know, the receptionist in my office has actually put a crucifix on her desk?” Nick shook his head. “It’s alright for you Old Ones, but what about the rest of us?”

“Just be glad that you didn’t live through the Middle Ages.”

“Alright, old man. Can’t I complain about anything without you ruining my fun?”

“No, I forbid it.”

Hal leant in and kissed his pouting lip. Nick returned his kiss gently. He tasted of tea.

“What are you baking anyway?”, he asked.

“Gingerbread.”

“I love gingerbread! Haven’t had that since…I can’t remember.” He frowned. “But you don’t like sweet things. You’re always going on about how sugar rots your fangs and makes you all jittery.”

“I probably won’t eat it,” Hal admitted, “I just needed an activity for this afternoon, and we had all the ingredients, so I thought why not? Afterall, it is nearly Christmas.”

“Well, I’m sure Tom will appreciate you getting into the spirit of things.”

Hal scowled. “I never said I didn’t like Christmas, I just don’t see why it’s necessary to bring a tree that sheds needles everywhere into a domestic environment.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Whatever scrooge. At least this year I’ve got an excuse not to go for dinner with my work colleagues. Middle aged solicitors who start crying about their divorces after a few glasses of wine? I can think of better company.”

“And who might you be referring to?”

“Myself, of course.”

“Why you-” but he was interrupted by Nick kissing him. Hal wondered how he’d never realized how lovely Nick was before. How sweet, how sensitive. But he suspected that something in him had seen and had wanted to corrupt it. He could be like that, when he was cruel.

There was a buzzing sound from the kitchen.

“That’s my timer.”

“Just one more moment”, Nick pleaded.

“If I don’t go, it will burn.”

“Ok, ok. Go on then.”

Hal hurried into the kitchen and opened the oven. He was pleased to see that the biscuits were baked to a flawless golden brown.

“You are coming over for Christmas, aren’t you?” He asked Nick, who had followed him through the door.

“Of course. I thought that was obvious?”

“Yes, well…I’m just glad that you’ll be here.”

Nick reached out to take a piece, but Hal swatted his hand away.

“No, not those ones. They’re for the house.”

“The house? Like a gingerbread house?”

“No, to repair the attic roof. Of course, a gingerbread house.”

Hal picked up a biscuit and broke it in half. Hesitantly, he held it out for Nick to try.

“Here. Open your mouth.”

Nick took the piece that Hal placed on his tongue as gently as a communion wafer, and felt the buttery ginger taste melt in his mouth.

“How is it?”, Hal asked nervously.

Nick chewed thoughtfully, a smile on his face. “Mmm…It’s perfect.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Nick leaned in and kissed him, and Hal tasted the fiery sweetness on his tongue. Yes, it was good, he had to admit.

“Really, it’s perfect.”


End file.
